


love is a verb (love is a doing word)

by star_sky_earth



Series: sleep [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Best Friends Forever, Brother/Sister Incest, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Incest, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Somnophilia, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_sky_earth/pseuds/star_sky_earth
Summary: Every important moment - every first time - in Clarke’s life has been shared with Octavia and Bellamy.She shouldn’t have been surprised that this was one of them.Nominee, 2019 BFWA After Dark Best NonCon Completed WorkSemi-Finalist, 2019 BFWA After Dark Best DubCon Completed Work





	love is a verb (love is a doing word)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on The 100 Kink Meme: 'Clarke and Octavia are bffs, and Clarke comes to stay the night at the Blakes', where Octavia shows her all the fun "games" she plays with her brother('s cock). Bonus points for casual nudity.'
> 
> This is irredeemable, unrepentant filth. Mind the tags. If you're not sure if this is for you, I've put a summary of the fic in the end notes for you to check out.
> 
> Title taken from 'Teardrop' by Massive Attack, which I listened to on repeat while writing this. If you want to listen to it while you read, you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3h-JYx76QNM 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Clarke and Octavia have been best friends _forever_. Or since kindergarten anyway, which when you’re fifteen is basically forever. She’s at the Blake house more than she’s at her own home, often walking home with Octavia on Friday evening and only calling her mom - begrudgingly - to come pick her up on Sunday evening or when she runs out of clean clothes, whichever comes last.

There’s something about the Blake house, with its sagging couch, faded wallpaper, and flickering hallway lights, that just feels like home to her. Her own house, beautiful and expensive and sterile, can’t compare. If it’s a choice between lonely take-out in front of a 55 inch TV waiting for her mom to get home from the hospital, or chaotic evenings spent round the Blake’s chipped kitchen table, she knows what she’ll choose. Every time. 

Octavia is her other half. They share everything - clothes, make-up, jewellery. They copy off each other’s homework, have their own secret language of half-finished sentences and knowing looks, have the same opinions about every song and every movie and every book. Even their crushes and tentative sexual fantasies are shared, worn so thin over endless nights of giggling whispers that eventually they usually forget exactly who liked who first, who had what dream, who kissed which boy at what school dance. 

Yeah, they share everything. Even Octavia’s big brother Bellamy is basically Clarke’s big brother too, at this point. Octavia’s mom is barely ever around, so he’s the responsible adult of the Blake household, adopting Octavia, and then Clarke as his own to care for, supervise, and generally keep alive. He’s seven years older than them, and Clarke gets a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach when she imagines him eventually moving out and then _away_ , but so far he seems happy to stick around, working part-time and taking classes at community college when he can afford it. And looking after them. 

Every important moment - every first time - in Clarke’s life has been shared with Octavia and Bellamy. 

She shouldn’t have been surprised that this was one of them. 

\- 

“We’re home!” Octavia shouts as she opens the front door, dumping her backpack heavily in the hallway. The sound of gunfire and swearing alerts them to the fact that Bellamy’s in the den, playing another interminable shoot-em-up. Clarke doesn’t have to see Octavia’s face to know that she’s rolling her eyes. 

Clarke follows her into the house, dropping her own backpack only slightly more carefully onto the floor, slipping her shoes off and padding into the den on bare feet behind Octavia. She notices that the glittery pink nail varnish on her toes is chipped. Maybe they should give each other pedicures this weekend. 

“Hey, brat,” Bellamy grunts, gaze fixed to whatever game he’s currently playing on the TV, hands furiously mashing buttons. Octavia plonks herself on the coach next to him, reaching to steal his soda from the coffee table. He doesn’t protest as she drains the glass, even if he shoots her a mildly annoyed look afterwards. 

Clarke sits down in the grotty armchair opposite them, facing away from the TV. She doesn’t like violence in games or films - she’s heard too many emergency room stories from her mom to find it exciting. She half-heartedly pulls a magazine from the stack on the floor next to the chair, flicking through the pages too quickly to really take anything in. 

Bellamy’s not wearing much, only a pair of sweatpants. Clarke tries to concentrate on her magazine, but she can’t stop her eyes from darting towards him every so often, no matter how hard she tries. She takes him in furtively, each glance a split-second snapshot. The muscles in his arms, flexing as he wildly stabs the controller. The exposed skin of his chest, tan, broader than her twice over. The little crinkle of his stomach as he sits, with that faintly obscene line of dark hair that disappears under his waistband. 

She feels her face heat up as her eyes continue to travel downwards, taking in the bulge at his crotch, his sweatpants stretched tight when he sits with his legs spread like that. Her whole body feels flushed, tense, achey. She wants to put her hand between her legs, grind her clit against the heel of her palm until she’s gasping. Instead, she pretends to read, the words swimming in front of her eyes.

Recently it’s been like this with Bellamy, and she doesn’t know why. Something fundamental has shifted, something that makes her blush whenever they make eye contact, makes her skin tingle when he touches her, thoughtlessly, easily like he always has. Clarke’s whole body is an exposed nerve, a live wire. Now, when she spends time with him and Octavia, doing the same mundane things they’ve always done, her panties are soaked after five minutes. She had to buy a whole five pack of underwear last time she was at Target, to keep in Octavia’s bottom drawer. 

She wants to know if he feels it too. It seems impossible that he doesn’t. Surely it’s too big, too life-changing to just be in her head. The world can’t just tilt on its axis like this without someone else noticing. 

She thinks about him at night, weird fantasies that make her feel dirty and embarrassed even though it’s just her that knows about them. She’s heard Bellamy fuck girls before - it’s a small house, with thin walls, and Bellamy may be the world’s best big brother but even he’s not that much of a saint. Clarke knows what he sounds like when he comes, knows the strangled, desperate noises that he pulls from the girls he takes into his room. It’s horribly easy to imagine herself in their place. 

Clarke imagines Bellamy touching her, his mouth on her skin, his hands around her wrists. Sometimes he’s gentle. Sometimes he’s not. She can’t stop thinking about him, rubbing her clit raw, even though it only makes it so much more awkward when he’s actually in front of her, like now. 

It all feels vaguely gross, like she’s taking advantage of him somehow. He should just be Bellamy, the brother she’s known for twelve years, but now he’s also becoming Bellamy, the hot guy she just wants on top of her.

Okay, so maybe Octavia and her don’t share _every_ fantasy.

After a few minutes the game finishes, and Bellamy tosses the controller on the floor, mildly pissed off at his loss. He groans, slumping back and slinging his arms along the back of the couch. Octavia takes the opportunity to shift closer, tucking herself neatly into his side, and he lowers one strong arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her even tighter into him. He kisses the top of her head, his lips lingering for a while, absent-minded affection that comes as naturally as breathing. He runs his fingertips up and down her upper arm, a gentle, familiar touch. Not surprisingly, Octavia and Bellamy are closer than the average brother and sister. Octavia has always been a sneaky little thing, craving attention and bodily contact wherever she can get it, and Bellamy is always happy to oblige. 

Clarke feels her stomach tighten at the sight of the hair under his arms, his body so different from her own, so masculine and _older_. Octavia looks so little under his massive arm. She looks away, ashamed. What kind of freak gets turned on looking at a brother and sister hug?

Eventually Octavia pulls away, yawns, stretches. Her joints crack quietly as she moves. She’s always been delicate, physically at least. 

“I’m gonna get changed,” she announces. “Bellamy, can we have pizza tonight?”

Bellamy smiles at her, giving in easily like he always does. “Yeah, sure.”

Octavia trots happily off to the bedroom, and now it’s just Clarke and Bellamy alone in the silent den. 

Clarke shifts uncomfortably in the armchair, and the slight movement catches Bellamy’s eye, his whole attention suddenly focussed on her like he’s only just realised that she’s in the room. They make eye contact, holding it for a long moment that makes her want to squirm in her seat. She bites her lip, flexes her fingers against the arms of the chair.

It’s not just her, right?

“Hey, princess,” Bellamy says quietly. His voice is so much deeper than the boys at school. She wants to lie on his chest and feel it vibrate through her.

Clarke blushes again. 

\- 

Clarke joins Octavia and gets changed too, carefully angling her body so that her friend doesn’t see the wetness between her thighs. 

\- 

Despite Clarke’s initial uneasiness, it turns out like every other night. Bellamy cooks them pizza - one perfectly done margherita and one slightly burnt meat feast - and they watch random shit on Netflix in the den. This time Bellamy takes the armchair, dragging it round to face the TV, and Clarke and Octavia curl up on the couch, toes just touching under a shared blanket. 

Bellamy has a couple of beers, and around eleven Octavia nudges Clarke, drawing her attention away from her phone screen. She points to where Bellamy’s fallen asleep in the armchair, head slumped against the backrest.

“He’s such a lightweight,” Octavia stage-whispers. “I don’t even know why he drinks, he has like half a beer and then he’s out like a light.”

Clarke fights the urge to smile. He’s so cute when he sleeps. 

“Should we wake him up?”

Octavia’s eyes glint with a mischievous light, her mouth twisting in a smirk. Something about it makes Clarke take notice.

“Nah, let’s just leave him. You know what he’s like when he’s just woken up, he’s such a grouch. He won’t thank us.”

Carefully they tidy up, tiptoeing around Bellamy to collect empty glasses and plates and wrappers, dumping it all in the kitchen for someone (him) to take care of in the morning. 

Despite her harsh words, Octavia takes the blanket from the couch, still warm from their body heat, and drapes it over him. Clarke turns off the lights, leaving him to sleep in the dark.

\- 

They’re brushing their teeth in the bathroom, side by side at the sink like an old married couple. Clarke feels exhausted, worn out and quiet, but Octavia is almost buzzing with energy, dropping her toothbrush into the sink twice, turning the tap on too far so water splashes all over the bathroom floor and all over Clarke’s tank top.

“What’s up?” Clarke questions, her mouth full of spearmint foam. 

“Hmm?” Octavia is aiming for nonchalant, but she’s got wide Bambi eyes - a sure sign that she’s up to something. 

Clarke tries to glare at her, but can’t hold it for more than a second before she breaks into a grin. 

“Whatever, loser. You’re so weird.”

Octavia shrugs - it’s not the first time Clarke’s called her weird, and it won’t be the last - and spits into the sink. 

-

They’ve been in bed about an hour, and Clarke is nowhere close to falling asleep. She’s still wet, and aching, and she can’t decide if she wants Octavia to snuggle closer or move away completely. Yeah, she’s pretty desperate for touch right now, but bad as it is to fantasise about Bellamy, its even worse to do it while his little sister spoons her. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and concentrates on breathing steadily, in and out. She read somewhere once that the best way to fall asleep is to trick your brain into thinking you’re already asleep, and that breathing deep and slow is one of the best tricks. So she lets her body go soft, and breathes in deep for five, out for five.

It seems to be working, her brain drifting slowly off into sleep, when she feels the mattress shift and Octavia get out of bed. 

It should be nothing. Octavia’s probably going to the bathroom. Octavia is _allowed_ to go to the bathroom, even in the middle of the night. But something prickles at the very edge of Clarke’s awareness, makes her sit up straight and flick on the bedside lamp. 

Octavia freezes, dramatically, like a cartoon villain, and it should be funny how obvious she is. God, she’s so bad at being bad. Clarke should laugh. But she just feels a low thrum of unease through her body. 

Her best friend is up to something.

“What are you doing?” Clarke’s voice is low and steady, despite how freaked out she’s feeling. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

Octavia shifts nervously, eyes darting to Clarke’s and then away again. Clarke crawls out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed, facing her. She reaches for Octavia’s hand and holds it between two of her own. Octavia’s pulse beats rapidly against her fingertips, like a hummingbird.

“O?”

She’s never seen Octavia like this before. 

But then, she realises, Octavia’s never kept a secret from her before.

“What’s going on?” Clarke raises her voice, just a little, and it’s enough to jolt Octavia into action. 

“Shh!” 

Octavia drops down on the bed next to Clarke. She turns to Clarke, her face flushed with agitation, and grabs her shoulders. Her grip is a little too hard for comfort, her little fingers digging into Clarke’s skin like claws.

“You love me, right?”

Clarke may be very confused and a little scared, but it’s an easy question with an easy answer.

“Yeah, of course.”

Octavia’s eyes are intent on hers. She has Bellamy's eyes - large, dark, and unreadable. 

“And you wouldn’t ever judge me, right? For anything?”

“O, what are you talking about?”

“Just…” Octavia looks away for a moment, like she’s working something out in her head, and then turns back to Clarke, her jaw set.

Now this is a look that Clarke knows well. Octavia is doing something dangerous, or stupid, or both, and dragging Clarke along for the ride.

“Just come with me.”

\- 

Clarke’s first - only - guess was that Octavia was leaving the house to go out drinking or meet a boy, so she expects that they’ll get dressed before leaving the bedroom. But Octavia just takes her hand and leads her out into the hallway, and Clarke is only getting more confused with every barefooted step down the threadbare carpet. 

They pause outside the doorway to the den, and Octavia turns to Clarke, puts her finger to her lips in an exaggerated plea for silence. 

Clarke nods, although her heart is hammering in her chest.

The den is just as dark as they’d left it, but the armchair is empty. For a second Clarke wonders where Bellamy’s gone, but then she sees him stretched out on the couch, still covered with the blanket. He must have woken up and moved to the couch, which doesn’t really make sense considering that his bedroom is literally ten feet away, but maybe he was a lot drunker than she thought. Octavia was right, he is a lightweight.

She glances at Octavia, anxious for some clue why they’re here, but it’s too dark to make out the look on her friend’s face.

There’s a tiny metallic click as Octavia turns on the side lamp next to the couch, and Bellamy is instantly bathed in a soft yellow light. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t even twitch. 

He really is cute when he sleeps. Like this, his face relaxed and open, Clarke is free to examine every freckle, the little white scar that just cuts through the slight pout of his mouth, the dark length of his eyelashes against his cheek. Her hand twitches, slightly, at her side. She wants to touch him.

She’s unsure though, not knowing why they’re here.

Octavia moves towards Bellamy, more silently than Clarke thought she was capable of. Her friend, normally so loud and chaotic, barely makes a sound as she carefully pulls the blanket down and off Bellamy. He’s still wearing his sweatpants, and the t-shirt he’d put on before dinner. His feet are bare.

He doesn’t react to the blanket being pulled off. He must really be out.

What is Octavia doing?

As if on cue, Octavia looks back at Clarke for a moment, and smiles, something intimate and sweet in her face that Clarke’s never seen before. She reaches for Clarke’s hand again, and pulls her closer until they’re both stood over the sleeping Bellamy. 

Octavia kneels down, and Clarke follows. Octavia is level with Bellamy’s crotch, Clarke a little higher by his stomach. She can see the steady movement of his sleeping chest, hear the tiny noise of his inhales and exhales. In for five, out for five. 

A flicker of movement draws Clarke’s eyes to Octavia, and she watches Octavia’s hands as they reach for Bellamy’s waistband. 

None of this feels real. Clarke could have woken up, right now, and not been surprised. She pinches the skin on the inside of her elbow, digs her nails in deep, but all it does is hurt. 

Octavia starts to pull down Bellamy’s sweatpants, and as his skin is revealed Clarke has to close her eyes for a second, hit by a wave of lust and guilt and fear so strong she could honestly fall over. 

When she opens them again, Octavia has pulled Bellamy’s sweatpants down to mid-thigh. Clarke can see his cock, large even to her inexperienced eyes, resting against his leg. While she watches it twitches, probably reacting to the cold air. 

She’s never seen a cock before in real life, never seen a soft cock at all. Her only sexual experience is a couple of kisses at parties, a few porn clips she’s watched online with Octavia while they sat uncomfortably next to each other, a tension between them that they didn’t acknowledge at the time, and have never discussed since. 

Clarke’s never thought of cocks as being particularly attractive - always thought that sex was probably good in spite of how they looked rather than because of how they looked - but Bellamy’s cock is just as good looking as he is. The skin is slightly darker there than the rest of him, his pubic hair darker still. He’s circumcised, she thinks.

She tears her eyes away to find Octavia watching her, gauging her reaction.

This can’t be the first time that Octavia has done this. She’s too sure, too confident that Bellamy won’t wake up. Had been too excited earlier, once she realised that Bellamy had fallen asleep. How many times has Bellamy fallen asleep, dead to the world after a couple of beers, and Octavia taken advantage of her big brother like this?

Clarke knows exactly what _she_ should do. Knows what a good girl, a good person would do. 

Instead, she nods, and Octavia smiles. 

When Octavia runs a gentle finger up the soft length of her brother’s cock, Clarke bites her lip to keep from moaning out loud. Octavia’s hands are so tiny, they make Bellamy’s cock look massive. Clarke can’t imagine how it would fit inside anyone. Definitely can’t imagine how it would fit inside someone as small as Octavia, but now she is imagining it, thinking about Octavia’s tiny body and Bellamy’s big body and all the ways they could fit together. All the old ways she’s seen, and all the new ways she’s maybe about to see.

She’s never consciously thought about Octavia like that before, not the way that she fantasises about Bellamy. But that seems to be changing, tonight.

Clarke’s so wet she thinks she can smell it. She knows that if she reached down right now, she’d find that she’s soaked through her panties and her sleep shorts, the layers of thin cotton no match for this fucked-up situation.

It’s really not that crazy, seeing Octavia touching Bellamy like this. The boundaries between the siblings have always been vague and ill-defined, and there’s nothing Bellamy has that Octavia doesn’t lay claim to, nothing he denies her. Even his body is hers, with the way she usually tugs him along and manhandles him and commandeers him for hugs and cuddles. This is just one step further than they usually go, a tiny increment that pushes their relationship over that thin line between co-dependent and...Clarke doesn’t like to think what.

Octavia strokes Bellamy’s cock as Clarke watches, using her whole hand now in steady, even strokes. He gets hard quickly, too big now for Octavia to fully close her hand around him. Octavia reaches up with a second hand, obviously intending to use both to wrap around his cock, but hesitates, her hand hovering halfway. 

Instead, she changes direction, extends her second hand to Clarke. 

Clarke takes a deep breath, and lets Octavia take her hand, guide her to Bellamy.

His cock feels hot against her hand. It’s harder than she thought it could be, and the skin is so soft and delicate she almost can’t believe it. She can’t close her hand around it any more than Octavia can, but she tries anyway, surprised by the weight of it. 

Clarke bites her lip as she and Octavia link their hands around Bellamy’s cock, fingers interlocked. Together they jerk him off, and Clarke is so wet, so desperate that she has to stop herself from rubbing against the couch in time with their strokes. She glances at Octavia to see her in the same state, mouth open and breathing heavily. 

Octavia catches Clarke’s eye, and grins.

Clarke can’t believe Bellamy hasn’t woken up. He twitches a little when they squeeze their hands gently on him, and he whines a little in his throat at the same time as wetness starts to gather at the tip of his cock. But aside from that his breath remains slow and deep. 

His cock is pretty wet now, pre-cum leaking down and over Clarke and Octavia’s hands. 

There’s something sickly thrilling about having Bellamy in this way, asleep and helpless. He’s a big guy in every way, physically and in terms of the role he plays in both their lives, but now it’s her and Octavia in charge, and the contrast makes her stomach flip. 

She remembers when they were younger, both of them ganging up on Bellamy in play fights, hanging off his arms as they attempted to bring him down. Eventually he’d always capitulate, pretending to collapse on the floor and letting the girls crawl on him, pin him down despite his obvious ability to throw them off at any point. This feels the same. 

She wonders what would happen if he woke up, right now. Would he throw them off? Or would he lie back, let them do whatever they wanted, just like he always has? 

Are they stealing something that they could get for free? 

Octavia guides their hands to a stop, resting at the base of Bellamy’s cock, holding it in place. Clarke holds her breath as Octavia leans over and delicately licks the head of his cock, gathering all that shining wet on the tip of her tongue. Octavia’s eyes close and she hums a little in pleasure, so quiet Clarke can barely hear it, before opening her mouth wider and taking the whole head of his cock in her mouth. 

Octavia is better at this than Clarke expected. She’s practiced.

Clarke is _on fire_. She squeezes her thighs together to try and relieve the tension, but it only makes her feel even more empty. 

Bellamy’s cock seems to get even harder as Octavia works her mouth over him, their linked hands still wrapped around the base. It’s sloppy, messy, as Octavia alternates between wrapping her mouth around the head and running her tongue over as much of him as she can reach, smearing his cock in spit and pre-cum. Her mouth is shiny-wet too now. She’s taking her time, enjoying it. 

Something about Octavia’s obvious, childish pleasure sets off a sharp impulse in Clarke, makes her want to sink her hands into Octavia’s soft, dark hair and push her friend down further on her brother’s cock, wants to see her take him deeper, just a little more than she can handle. Instead Clarke puts her free hand on the small of Octavia’s back, ever so slightly pushing Octavia forward. Octavia hums again, her dark eyes opening to find Clarke, smirking around Bellamy’s cock like she knows exactly what Clarke is thinking. 

Finally she pulls off and leans back, and Clarke knows that its her turn now. After all, they’re sharing him aren’t they? Just like they share everything else.

Clarke rises up on her knees a little, leaning over Bellamy’s cock. She isn’t really sure what to do at first, so she starts by just kissing him, running her mouth up and down the shaft until her lips feel oversensitive and tingly. If he felt hot against her hands, he feels even hotter against her mouth. 

She feels a whisper of a touch against the back of her head, Octavia’s fingers lightly scratching against Clarke’s scalp before she takes gentle hold of her hair. Not enough to control Clarke’s movements, just enough to ground her, reassure her. 

Emboldened, Clarke opens her mouth tentatively, licks along the length of Bellamy’s cock, all the way from their linked hands at the bottom to the tiny opening at the top. It’s not like anything she’s ever tasted before, but it’s not bad. Her clit throbs as she realises that she’s tasting both of them on him, Octavia’s saliva and Bellamy’s pre-cum combined, and suddenly her mouth is watering for more.

Like Octavia, she takes her time exploring Bellamy’s dick, just trying it out. It’s not how she ever imagined going down on him, but it’s nice to be able to practice without worrying about looking like an idiot. She tries to take him in her mouth, struggling to go down more than a third of the way, weirdly turned on by the slightly painful stretch of her mouth around him. 

Octavia’s head tightens in her hair and Clarke tries to go down further, gags when his cock hits the back of her throat. Bellamy moans, his hips thrusting up, and they both freeze, terrified.

Octavia leans around Clarke to check, gives her the nod to keep going. Clarke has no idea how Bellamy is sleeping through this, is a little bit insulted actually, even though it’s kind of exciting. 

She eases her mouth off his cock after that, Octavia’s hand loosening in her hair, and switches to licking him with the broad of her tongue, getting him nice and wet. As she gets more confident, she gently squeezes their hands around the base of his cock, and they begin to jerk him off again while Clarke continues to tease him with her mouth.

Octavia shifts position next to her, and now they’ve both got their mouths on his cock, moving in perfect rhythm like they’ve done this a million times. A couple of times they accidentally make contact, tongues tangling together on Bellamy’s skin and Clarke is surprised how much she doesn’t mind. 

Bellamy groans. They both ignore him.

Octavia tugs a little on Clarke’s hair, pulling her mouth off Bellamy, and kisses her, their hands still working together on his cock.

It begins sweet and slow, closed mouths at first while they build up their confidence, until Clarke coaxes Octavia’s mouth open gently and tentatively flicks her tongue against hers. The kiss deepens after that, a frantic clash of teeth and tongue, sounding loud in the quiet room, but it’s still good, comforting in a weird way. Octavia tastes a little like Bellamy, but underneath it’s all her. Her best friend in the world.

Bellamy’s cock twitches in their hands as their movements slow, their attention divided between him and each other. Clarke takes the hand not on Bellamy and lightly traces along the sharp line of Octavia’s jaw, resting her hand on Octavia’s throat just to feel the muscles move as they kiss. 

Clarke feels drunk with how turned on she is, full up on both the people she loves. She can feel her thighs getting wet, and she wonders if Octavia can feel it too, as close together as they are. She’s desperate to be touched, considers pulling Octavia’s leg between hers, rubbing against her to relieve the unbearable tension, get a bit of love on her clit. 

Octavia pulls away a little, running little kisses up Clarke’s cheek until she reaches her ear.

“Do you want to do it?” she whispers in Clarke’s ear, more air than sound. 

Time stops. 

Clarke pulls her hand off Bellamy’s cock, ignoring Octavia’s look of disappointment, and sits back on her heels. 

Clarke isn’t even going to pretend that she doesn’t know what Octavia means. 

“Have you?” she whispers back.

Octavia shrugs. Like it’s no big deal.

“A couple of times. It’s good, trust me.”

Clarke swallows hard. A small part of her is hurt, that Octavia’s been doing this without her, has already done it _a couple of times_. Even if she didn’t have an insane crush on Bellamy, she’d want to do it just to catch up.

She needs space to think. Does she really want to do this? Does she really really want to lose her virginity to her best friend’s sleeping brother? 

_Her_ sleeping brother, really?

Octavia squirms impatiently, and Clarke realises that if she doesn’t do it, Octavia will. 

“Okay.”

Octavia smiles, that sly Octavia smile that she always pulls when she gets exactly what she wants - which is always. She guides Clarke back up on her knees and leans in just a little to kiss her again. This time its barely more than their lips ghosting together, a suggestion of a kiss more than anything, but it does its job to calm Clarke down. She takes a deep breath and gets it together. She wants Bellamy, even like this. 

Octavia undoes the drawstring of Clarke’s sleep shorts, hooks her fingers in the waistband and pulls her shorts and panties off together. She quirks an amused eyebrow at how slippery wet Clarke is, runs her finger lightly up the inside of her thigh just to feel it, and Clarke is oddly embarrassed in a way that only makes her even wetter. 

Clarke stands up and out of her clothes, leaving her in just a tank top. She wonders if she should take it off - aren’t you meant to be naked when you have sex? She doesn’t know if this counts, decides just to leave it on. Octavia might think it’s weird for her to get naked in the middle of the den, might think she’s taking this whole thing too seriously.

Octavia stands up too, grabs hold of Clarke’s hips and turns her around to face Bellamy. 

He’s still sleeping soundly, face relaxed and sweet in contrast to his hard cock, exposed and obscene. Clarke would like to kiss him. Would like him to kiss her back.

“You need to get on top of him,” Octavia directs her quietly. “That’s the only way it works.”

It’s awkward, and it takes a bit of manoeuvring, Octavia manhandling Clarke with surprising strength for her tiny frame. Eventually Clarke ends up straddling Bellamy, facing up towards his head, posed just above his cock, knees resting on the lumpy couch cushions on either side of his hips. His big body stretches out beneath her, and she longs to rest her weight fully on him, wants to put her hands on his stomach for balance, but that will definitely wake him up, so she just hovers in mid air, thighs trembling a little from the effort. She puts one hand on the back of the couch, which helps some. 

She’s never been so exposed, pussy spread and wet and empty. She doesn’t know if she wants Octavia to see or not.

She’s startled when Octavia hops up behind her, far more gracefully moving to straddle Bellamy’s thighs, just behind Clarke. But it makes sense when Octavia reaches down between Clarke’s legs to grab Bellamy’s cock, stroking it a couple of times before holding it up at the right angle. She’s glad that at least Octavia knows how this is meant to work. She’d never be able to figure this out on her own.

“Now just, sit down on it.”

It’s not as easy as Octavia makes it sound. Clarke’s never had anything inside her before - doesn’t really get how the angle works, can’t get her shaking thighs to work the way she wants. She lowers down clumsily, gripping hard onto the back of the couch for balance. 

Just as she gets close, Octavia moves Bellamy’s cock so it rubs against her clit instead, making Clarke gasp, stopping mid-air.

She shoots Octavia a dirty look back over her shoulder. Octavia looks completely unrepentant, a familiar mischievous look in her eye. She gestures for Clarke to try again, and Clarke rolls her eyes, turning back to Bellamy.

She starts to lower herself once more, and Octavia moves Bellamy’s cock again, this time rubbing the head along the whole length of Clarke’s pussy, lazily circling her clit until Clarke gasps. Her thighs tremble dangerously, and she’s not sure if she can hold her body up any longer.

Octavia kneels up behind her, wraps her free arm around Clarke’s waist to steady her.

“Sorry,” she whispers into Clarke’s ear. “I’m just playing. You’re just so wet, I can’t help it. Try it again, I’ll be good this time.”

Octavia lets go of her waist and Clarke lowers herself again. This time Octavia holds Bellamy’s cock steady, helps Clarke guide it into herself. 

She expects it to hurt, but it doesn’t really, or at least not in any way that she’s experienced before. It probably helps that she’s so wet, and stretched wide already with his big hips between her knees. Bellamy’s cock stretches her open, so large she can’t breathe, and its a few long agonising moments before he’s fully inside her. Octavia moves her hand out of the way as Clarke settles all the way down but she’s not quite quick enough, so her hand is briefly trapped between them, her fingers an additional bit of pressure against Clarke’s pussy that makes her want to whine. 

She can’t believe how it feels to have someone inside her. To have Bellamy inside her. It feels impossible and meant to be at the same time. 

She shifts a little, nervous about her weight on Bellamy. This would be the worst possible time for him to wake up. She watches his face carefully. His eyelids flicker a little, but his breathing remains steady. 

Octavia fidgets behind her, impatient.

Clarke doesn’t really know what’s she’s supposed to do. She hadn’t thought past this point, kind of thought that once he was inside her she’d somehow just come, and it’d be done. Instead she’s more desperate than ever, wound up tight with her clit rubbing against his body and his cock deep inside her, waking up nerve endings she didn’t even know existed.

This would be so much easier if Bellamy was awake, his big hands on her hips to guide her movements. He’d know exactly how this is supposed to go, what she was meant to do. 

“Come on.”

Octavia reaches around Clarke’s waist, holding out both her hands, palm up. Confused, Clarke takes her hands, and Octavia entwines their fingers together.

Octavia pushes up slightly with her hands, and Clarke suddenly gets it. Leverage. 

With Octavia’s hands to push down on, Clarke is able to lift herself up Bellamy’s cock. She’s careful, not wanting him to slip out altogether, only going halfway up at first. She lowers herself even more carefully, squeezing her eyes shut tight at the feel of his cock in her.

Riding Bellamy is difficult. It uses a whole new group of muscles that Clarke didn’t even existed, and she’s not sure how she’s supposed to do it. Grinding down on him feels good, rubs her clit and gets her feeling all full up, like she’s just realising she likes. Moving up and down feels good too, rubs all along her on the inside, makes her want him awake, pounding into her, working her open for him. 

In the end, she just does exactly what she wants, sloppy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t care if Octavia is going to make fun of her later for her clumsy movements, it feels too good to care about how it looks. Every time she rubs her clit against him, every time his cock hits that place deep inside her, pleasure jolts through her until she feels like she’s going mad from it, her body shaking from the effort to keep quiet. 

Through it all Bellamy sleeps. Once she thinks she sees his mouth twist in pleasure, but when she looks again his face is calm and untroubled. 

The room is completely silent aside from the slick sound of their bodies coming together, a dirty noise that just gets her even wetter, makes it even noisier in a filthy feedback loop. As she gets more confident she moves faster, harder, pulling all the way up until Bellamy’s cock is only just inside her before slamming back down again. She likes it harder, on the very edge of painful, likes to think that he’s breaking her open inside. The couch squeaks in protest. She shouldn’t risk it, but she can’t stop.

She knows that if Bellamy was awake, if this was happening the way she’s wanted it to, it would be nothing like this. He wouldn’t be rough with her. He’s almost physically incapable of being rough with her and Octavia, terrified of hurting his girls. Most likely if they were doing this for real, he’d have her laid out on her back, smoothing over her entire body with those big hands, kissing her so sweet she’d shiver. He’d have her trembling and delirious with sensation before he even got his cock anywhere near her. He’d call her princess, whisper how much he loved her, how lucky he was to be with her… 

It wouldn’t be like this, their pelvises slamming together with every thrust, his cock so deep she can feel it in her throat. 

Octavia’s hands are tight around hers in a white knuckled grip, her breath hot on the back of her neck. It just turns Clarke on even more. 

It doesn’t take too long before she feels the pleasure building dangerously, her whole body winding tight with tension until she wants to scream. 

She tugs one of her hands free from Octavia’s grip, reaching down to rub her clit as she slams herself down on Bellamy’s cock, feeling desperate and feral. 

“Oh, _fuuck_ ,” she starts to whine, before Octavia quickly slaps her free hand over her mouth, muffling the sound.

When she comes it feels like her entire body shorts out, all her senses reduced to a white noise that leaves her trembling and whining. She keeps moving, her body knowing what to do even if she doesn’t, keeps Bellamy’s cock moving through the aftershocks, dragging the feeling out as long as possible. 

All at once Bellamy gets even harder inside her, stretching her open just a touch more until she gasps, overstimulated. She’s even wetter, suddenly. She looks down to see Bellamy’s eyes are still closed but his mouth has dropped open, his breathing heavier, the muscles of his abdomen twitching.

Bellamy’s coming inside her. 

She grinds down on him, even though her clit is oversensitive and it’s only just this side of pleasure. 

She wants it to feel as good for him as it does for her. 

Eventually he starts to soften and she slows down to a gradual stop. Octavia removes her hand from Clarke’s mouth, and Clarke takes a few deep grateful breaths, her heartbeat slowing, the sweat on her body cooling. 

Behind her she can hear Octavia breathing heavily, and beneath that a wet sound that lets her know that Octavia is touching herself. They’re still holding hands. 

Clarke feels bad, leaving Octavia to get herself off alone after all the help that Octavia gave her earlier. Not bad enough to turn around though. 

It’s only a couple of minutes before Octavia gasps, and comes. Octavia slumps forward, resting her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder.

Soon Clarke starts to feel uncomfortable, and sticky. She shifts a little, pulls her hand out of Octavia’s hold, lifts herself off Bellamy slowly. 

The dismount is even less graceful than getting on, her legs wobbling beneath her. She can’t quite trust that they’ll hold her up, is worried that after all this she’s just going to topple straight over onto Bellamy, and it’s with no small amount of relief that she finally gets both feet planted firmly on the ground. 

Octavia gets down off Bellamy too only a second later. She looks just as manic and dishevelled as Clarke feels.

There’s cum dripping down Clarke’s thighs. It’s not uncomfortable exactly, but it’s weird. She reaches down and picks up her discarded underwear and shorts, bunches the fabric up to wipe herself off. After a moment’s hesitation she leans over and wipes Bellamy off too. Octavia pulls Bellamy’s sweatpants back up, rearranges the blanket so it covers him again. 

One of Bellamy’s messy curls has fallen down across his forehead. Clarke wants to reach over, push it back off his forehead. She wants to trail her fingers down his temple and along his cheekbone, cup his jaw in her hand. She doesn’t.

-

Octavia giggles quietly as they leave the den, but Clarke is quiet. She doesn’t know how she feels yet. She has a sinking feeling that maybe she’s done something she can’t take back, given away a bit of herself that she won’t get returned. 

She aches between her legs, but she can’t tell if it’s a good ache or not. 

She gets back into bed with Octavia, their legs tangling together under the sheets like always, but ends up lying awake as Octavia quietly snores beside her.

\- 

As Octavia’s door clicks quietly closed, Bellamy opens his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Clarke and Octavia are 15, and best friends. Bellamy is Octavia's older brother, and 22. Clarke is close with Bellamy to the point that she regards him as her honorary brother. Bellamy gets drunk and passes out on the couch, and Clarke and Octavia take advantage of him while he sleeps, culminating in Clarke having sex with him, losing her virginity. It's heavily implied at the end that Bellamy was awake the whole time, but neither Clarke nor Octavia knew this.


End file.
